


2.17

by bonebo



Series: Kinktober '17 [17]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Halloween Skins, Immortal Jack, M/M, Pumpkin Reaper, Voyeurism, Witch Mercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 08:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: 17.Blood/Gore| Costume |Massage





	2.17

“My boys,” the Witch purrs, delicately crossing her legs and leaning back in her throne more comfortably, letting one heeled foot bounce lazily in the air. “My good, pretty boys...put on a show for me, my darlings.”

She waves one slender hand toward her two favourite servants, kneeling at her feet--her immortal Jack, with hair the color of moonlight, and her dear, damned Reaper, always brooding and beautiful--and smiles when they move together, obedient to her will as always.

What good boys.

Reaper is the first to strike, per usual; grabbing a fistful of Jack’s hair and pulling him into a kiss, bringing life back into those pale lips in the form of blushed bitemarks and bruises, feasting on Jack’s noises like a soul: as if the Witch didn’t already take that, years ago. She tuts at Reaper’s urgency, at his roughness, and with one wave of her hand has the cloaked fiend recoiling with a cry of pain, clawed fingers scrabbling at his vacant chest, right over where his heart would be.

As if Jack didn’t already take that, years ago.

“Behave, pumpkin,” the Witch scolds, releasing her phantom hold on the Reaper’s heart and snapping her fingers, drawing his pained, glowing gaze back to her. “I know how eager you are for your toy, but today, I want something different. You’re going to serve my dear immortal. However…”

She trails off and leans forward, her gaze darkening as she says, “Remember that he is an extension of me, and shall be treated as such. I want to see kindness in your performance.”

Reaper nods, and beside him Jack shifts closer, hands eager as they reach out and climb up Reaper’s thick thigh. He earns no rebuke from either party, which only makes him bolder, until he’s kneeling over where Reaper has lain and pulling away his tarnished armor piece by piece, feeling up the cool skin beneath as he bares it. 

It would be easier to resist, if it didn’t feel so good--if Jack’s hands weren’t roaming over skin that has gone months without a kind touch, rubbing the tension from muscles made tense and tight by years of abuse and hard labour. It makes Reaper arch up, pushing his chest into the contact as his eyes close, and Jack can’t help himself; he reaches out and strokes over the firm ridges of Reaper’s face, digs his nails in white against orange and makes Reaper hiss.

It’s not entirely out of pain, and Jack can feel warmth gathering between his thighs. He smiles and leans down to press a kiss to the pumpkin’s skin, and with the hum of the Witch behind him he gets their show started.


End file.
